


Touch

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-01
Updated: 2001-11-01
Packaged: 2020-06-24 21:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: An answer to the “He’s gay, Jim” Challenge posted on the usenet group ASCEM (Alt.Startrek.Creative.Erotica.Moderated) in late 2000/early 2001.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> Originally published in the ezine Side by Side 2 November/December 2001.
> 
> Betas: Graciously performed by Islaofhope and Animasola, who are both brilliant and warp-speed-fast; thank you both so much! It was as much fun as writing the piece in the first place.

“He’s gay, Jim.” McCoy thunked his coffee cup down on the table.

“He’s who?” Kirk hadn’t really been concentrating on his conversation with the doctor. He’d been staring off across the main rec room to where Spock sat with Sulak, a young Vulcan engineer who’d just been assigned to the Enterprise; in fact, the second Vulcan ever to receive an assignment to Kirk’s ship. Spock, the first and only until now, had apparently set aside his usual reserve in order to assist Sulak in adjusting to life aboard a primarily Terran starship. Spock was a generous creature, no matter how he tried to deny it. Kirk felt a little rush of pride at the thought.

“Not who, what,” McCoy continued. “Gay. Homosexual. Sulak likes men.”

“You think so?” Kirk couldn’t take his eyes off the scene before him. The two Vulcans sat hunched over a portable viewer with their glossy dark heads close together, looking for all the galaxy like schoolboys playing a computer game. They were speaking rapidly and rather animatedly in their native tongue and making occasional gestures at the screen.

“Oh, yes,” McCoy said.

“You think Spock knows that?” The words were out of Kirk’s mouth before he could call them back. Chagrined, he picked up his coffee cup and tried to hide his expression behind it as he drank. Why should it matter to Spock whether the young engineer was gay, straight, bi, or fond of Deltan orgies? Why, for that matter, should _Kirk_ care?

McCoy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. The fingers of his right hand tapped his left arm. “Oh, I think he knows very well,” he drawled.

“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kirk said.

“Why nothin’, Jim, does it mean something to you?”

“No—why should it?” Kirk’s voice came out a little too loud, and it drew startled glances, quickly averted, from the crewpeople at the next table. He lowered his voice carefully. “I presume you have some _logical_ reason for giving me this information, Doctor?”

“Hey, I’m not breaking any confidences here, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” McCoy protested. “I’ve never spoken to the guy; M’Benga did his physical, and a person’s sexual orientation isn’t part of his Starfleet record any more. HQ has finally bowed to public pressure on the privacy issue. And thank goodness, because what would we put down for you—‘yes to all of the above’?”

Kirk stared open-mouthed for several seconds before his sense of humor overrode his exasperation. “Bones, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”

McCoy grinned. “Keeps you on your toes, Jim-boy.”

Kirk threw up his hands. “All right. Are you going to tell me how you guessed this … personal information about Ensign Sulak?”

“A little investigation of Vulcan culture and keen powers of observation, Jim. _You’re_ lookin’ at him. But you’re not really seeing.”

“Seeing what? What is there to see?” Sulak had turned slightly toward Spock and was saying something intently. He gestured with one hand, then tapped the screen with it.

“There! Watch when he goes to enter data. Did you see it?”

“No … yes, well I saw …” He _had_ seen something unusual for a Vulcan, Kirk realized. When Sulak moved his hand, just before he touched the screen, he touched Spock’s arm. Deliberately. It wasn’t, couldn’t have been, an accident. Vulcans didn’t have accidents of that sort. Kirk watched, astounded, as Sulak repeated the gesture, a light brushing of fingers on the back of Spock’s wrist. It _was_ odd, because Vulcans supposedly didn’t engage in casual touching.

“You saw it.” McCoy’s eyes danced.

Kirk shrugged. “So he’s more demonstrative than your typical Vulcan. How does that tell you he’s gay?”

“Jim, in emotionally healthy species, you don’t have to watch for such subtle cues. But in Vulcans, with their deliberate emotional repression in the name of logic, the tiniest gesture is as loud as a shout, if you know what to look for.”

“And you do.”

“Yup. Did you know, Jim, that straight Vulcan men just do not touch other men casually—ever? It’s considered a threat, a challenge to a fight. Cultural conditioning that goes back way, way before Surak.” Kirk knew that McCoy had been studying up on Vulcans since Spock’s ill-fated marriage ceremony, but he’d had no idea the research had gone this deep.

“Spock doesn’t seem to be reacting like he’s been challenged to a fight,” Kirk protested.

“No, he doesn’t.” Again, McCoy’s fingers tap-tap-tapped his arm. Kirk wished he’d cut it out.

“So he knows Sulak isn’t a threat. What of it?”

McCoy’s grin widened. “Oh, he knows more than that.”

Kirk turned on him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Doctor, but I don’t think I’m amused by it anymore. I think you’re just annoyed that Spock has another Vulcan aboard now, and you’re afraid you’re going to lose all the ground you’ve gained in trying to break down his defenses and make him show emotion.”

“Jim, you don’t see the half of it. I’m not losin’ any ground. I’m sitting back and watching Sulak do the job for me. We’re about to witness an emotional display from our Mr. Spock, mark my words.”

Kirk chose to ignore that. McCoy was either trying to pull Kirk’s leg, or he was trying to get one up on Spock behind his back, and Kirk wasn’t going to encourage either activity. He marshaled his own logic. “I think you’re mistaken about Vulcans, Bones. Spock’s as reserved as any of his people, and he’s never reacted to a casual touch with anything but his usual calm. He’s touched me—even you, now that I think about it—and never had any problem with it.”

“Uh-huh.” McCoy assumed what Kirk thought of as his glommer-ate-the-tribble expression.

“Bones!” Kirk remembered to keep his exclamation to a harsh whisper. “You can’t mean to suggest—”

“Jim, what you’re watchin’ across the rec room,” he drawled pointedly, “is two Vulcans engaging in courtin’ behavior. In fact, some of it verges on foreplay.”

“Now, wait just a second. You’re trying to tell me that _Spock_ is gay, too, and he’s planning to—” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. _Spock’s planning to screw that guy?_

An image came unbidden: Spock, stripping off his uniform with deliberate slowness, his strong, slender body poised, his dark eyes locked unerringly on those of his lover. His entire being focused on pleasuring him. Spock would bring the intense concentration of his powerful mind to anything he did, Kirk was sure. Especially that. Especially making love. The thought sent a shiver right up Kirk’s spine and neck, into his scalp, making his hair stand on end.

McCoy just blinked at him with huge, innocent blue eyes. And smiled, gently.

Kirk felt his fists clenching. He was suddenly furious, and he couldn’t even put his finger on why. “He’s only an ensign. That’s against regulations,” he finally snarled. “I’ll—”

“You’ll what? March over there and tell them so? Those two can probably quote the rule book chapter and verse. I know Spock can. That’s not going to stop them any more than it would stop anyone else aboard. You know perfectly well how universally those particular regs get disregarded in the Fleet.”

“But Spock’s usually so precise—”

“Not about following regs. He may be able to quote them all verbatim, but he seems to think they were written for somebody else, not him. He’s broken at least half of them in the past three years alone, and that includes the only capital offense in the book.”

Kirk drew a long breath and let it out slowly. McCoy was right, of course. Kirk could even name the incidents, up to and including the violation of General Order Number Seven, for which Spock had been fortunate to escape punishment.

“Anyway, does it really look to you like harassment?” McCoy continued. “Looks to me like Sulak came on to Spock, not the reverse. Spock may be first officer, which puts him over everyone on the ship except you, but Sulak is nowhere near Spock’s direct area of supervision as science officer. Sulak’s career advancement is supervised by Scotty.”

“But they can’t—” Kirk started to say, and then stopped himself. Why couldn’t they? Why did it matter to him so much? If Spock wanted some companionship on the Enterprise, what right had Kirk to try to keep him from it? He loved Spock like a brother; why wouldn’t he want him to be happy?

“I _do_ want him to be happy,” Kirk murmured to himself.

He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until he heard McCoy respond, soothingly, “Of course you do, Jim.”

“I tried to talk him into taking Shore Leave on Wrigley’s with me once, did you know that? There was that beautiful violinist who wanted to meet him, and …

“He wasn’t interested?”

“Oh, I think he was interested, he just….” Kirk paused, frowning. “You can’t be right about Spock, Bones. He _was_ interested in that girl. In fact, I can name a few others. So can you, from what I saw in your log after the Beta Niobe supernova incident.”

“Zarabeth,” McCoy supplied, drawing the name out slowly. “Yeah, she was some woman.” He shrugged. “Why d’you think he begged off the date with the violinist?”

“Because he’s a Vulcan, and Vulcans don’t go for one-night stands, or even one-week stands. All he said to me about it was that his life was on the ship, and he could not offer her anything.” Kirk shook his head. “Bones, he’s not gay. He _was_ interested. And never mind that: I saw his log after the Zarabeth incident, too—he had sex with her. Heck, you were there.”

McCoy shrugged. “I never said he was gay, Jim; you did.”

“But you said he was engaging in courtship behavior with Sulak. And you _did_ say Sulak was gay—Doctor, you’re making my head hurt. You _did_ as much as say Spock was gay.”

McCoy picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Jim, has it ever occurred to you that Spock might be more like you than you realized? He admires beauty in all its forms. He’s attracted to brilliant minds. Seems to me that Sulak has both.”

Kirk looked over again, sizing up the ensign. He was slender and dark-haired, like Spock, with the same characteristic angularity to his features, the same quick grace. But he was not as tall, his eyes were light brown, his hair was wavy, and his features were classically handsome. His skin was creamy smooth, while Spock’s dark beard was beginning to shadow his more saturnine features as it always did by evening. As Kirk watched, Sulak ran his index and middle fingers briefly over the back of Spock’s wrist again. Kirk’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Spock turn his hand over just in time for Sulak’s fingers to stroke the palm. Spock’s fingers closed over Sulak’s for a fleeting moment, and he bowed his head slightly. The gesture looked like the acceptance of a proposition.

Kirk was on his feet and heading in their direction before he even realized he was no longer in his chair. Behind him, McCoy’s voice said easily, “You about to turn the fire hose on those two, Jim?”

“The what? No, I’m going to—I’m going…” He had no idea what he was going to do. He straightened his shoulders. “I think it’s time I got a chance to really meet our new Vulcan shipmate, Bones. I hardly said two words to him or any of the new crew the other day because I was so tied up with Mendez on the base.”

“Mmm. Good idea, Jim.” McCoy’s voice dripped sarcasm, but Kirk didn’t have any more energy to waste on McCoy. He was aimed like a photon torpedo at Spock and his new friend, and nothing short of a red alert was going to stop him. Maybe not even that.

The young ensign shot to his feet when he caught sight of Kirk approaching. Spock, glancing over casually, rose also, but he moved with deliberate grace.

“Sit, gentlemen, please.” Kirk pulled up a third chair, hardly noticing that he’d put it between the other two chairs until he saw Spock raise an eyebrow.

Sulak regained his chair, but looked distinctly uncomfortable, sitting ramrod straight with his eyes respectfully downcast.

“Ensign Sulak. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak to you when you came aboard. I wanted to tell you how glad we are to have you as part of the crew. Mr. Scott has been begging Starfleet for a dilithium-propulsion specialist for more than three years now.”

Sulak looked up, cautiously, and said, “Yes, Captain. I have already begun to offload some chores from Mr. Scott, sir.”

“I’ll bet Scotty’s happy,” Kirk said.

Spock cleared his throat. “Mr. Scott said to tell you that…” he cocked his head as though struggling to remember, which Kirk knew perfectly well was an act. “Ah, yes. He expressed a wish that you would be blessed by something called the Great Bird, and he plans to offer you a gesture of hospitality to thank you for requesting the additional personnel on his behalf.”

“What sort of gesture?”

“He mentioned something about a very old bottle of Scotch whiskey,” Spock said.

“Ah, that.” Kirk smiled and turned to Sulak. “You see, Ensign? Scotty’s _very_ happy to have you on his team.” And before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to do it, he clapped Sulak on the shoulder.

Sulak’s eyes widened, his brows shot up, and he started to get to his feet. “Sir, do you mean to—”

“Sulak.” Spock caught Sulak’s gaze and shook his head. “It is merely a human gesture of camaraderie.”

Slowly, Sulak sat back down. “Forgive me, sir. I am not as experienced in human customs as this assignment will apparently demand.”

Kirk gave him a slow smile. “Your personnel file says you spent rather more time in the engineering laboratories at the Academy than you did in social pursuits. You and Scotty should get along just fine. As for our customs, I’m sure the humans in the crew will bring you up to speed on those soon enough.” He stopped short of suggesting that Sulak seek out the humans in the crew to socialize with. And leave Spock alone.

Sulak cleared his throat. “Ah … yes, sir. You remind me that I have tests to run tonight in the warp chamber.”

Kirk regarded the young, eager face. _Yes, the warp chamber is a better place for you tonight than Spock’s chamber._ “Don’t let us keep you then, Ensign. Dismissed.”

“Aye, sir.” Sulak shot a questioning glance at Spock, and the answer must have been negative, for the young Vulcan’s expression closed. Sulak turned on his heel and left.

Kirk turned back to face Spock, whose dark eyes seemed to be smiling at him. Kirk suddenly felt awkward, startled by his own actions. “Uh, Spock … I’m sorry. I seem to have interrupted whatever you and Sulak were doing….”

Spock regarded him in silence for one moment, then said, “It is of no consequence. We were discussing current warp theory; we can resume the discussion at another time.” He looked as though he wanted to add something, but he didn’t; he simply watched Kirk with a pensive dark gaze.

 _Not just pensive—mesmerizing,_ Kirk thought. _Is that what attracted Sulak?_ Silence stretched between them. “Uh, Spock, if you’re free tonight, how about a… a game of chess?” It was the first thing he could come up with.

“I am apparently unengaged. My quarters at twenty-one hundred?”

“Sure,” Kirk said. “Since your new friend appears to be busy in engineering tonight, I guess you’re stuck with an old one,” he joked.

“I do not know Sulak well enough to consider him my friend, Jim, and spending time in your company does not remind me of being ‘stuck’ in any way.”

Kirk smiled. “If I untangle that sentence correctly, I believe you meant it as a compliment.”

Spock’s eyes smiled even though his face remained otherwise properly unemotional. “I did.”

“I think that calls for a toast,” Kirk said. “I’ll bring that Saurian along that I’ve been threatening to coerce you to taste. We’ll make a night of it.”

He saw both of Spock’s brows rise at that remark, but Spock made no comment, so Kirk smiled and got up to go. “See you at twenty-one hundred.”

Spock’s quiet, “Very well,” reached him as he headed for the door.

He met McCoy there. The doctor still had his arms folded, and was still tap-tap-tapping the fingers of one hand on the opposite arm. “Well, Jim, I see you used the fire hose after all. Sulak scampered out of here like a spanked puppy.”

“Nonsense, Doctor. The ensign had some work to do in engineering. I didn’t ask him to leave.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so. Please go psychoanalyze someone else, Bones. I don’t have the patience.”

He could have sworn he heard McCoy whistling at the ceiling as the door shut behind him.

*****

They played chess. Fast. Spock took absolutely no time for contemplation between moves, and Kirk couldn’t remember a single instance when he’d played like that before. Dressed in the unmarked black Vulcan robe he sometimes wore when off duty, Spock looked more enigmatic than usual, and he played as he would with another Vulcan, lightning-fast, precisely, logically, and with inescapable efficiency.

It unnerved Kirk. It also made him play recklessly. He won one game that way, but lost three. Finally, he knocked his king over and said, “I’ve had enough. You trounced me.”

“I confess my mind has not been entirely on the game, Jim,” Spock said after a short silence.

“Writing a scientific paper in your head during chess again?” Kirk tried not to think about the implications for his own chess game.

“Not this time.” Spock sat back and folded his hands, contemplating as he hadn’t done during the game. “Would you care for some refreshment?”

“The Saurian?” Kirk had brought it along, but they’d both forgotten about it during the unusual series of games.

“That, or cold chela-leaf tea from Berengaria. I procured some on our recent stopover there. I find it most refreshing.” Spock slid over to fetch a pitcher and two handleless cups from the far side of the desk, near the bulkhead. “Forgive me for neglecting to offer it to you earlier.”

“If I accept, does that mean you’re going to try the Saurian brandy?” Kirk motioned at the curved flask next to the stone pitcher of tea.

Spock lifted both eyebrows, his gaze holding Kirk’s. Then he opened the cabinet adjoining his desk and brought out two small brandy glasses, Vulcan in design. Kirk had never seen them before. “Your pleasure?”

“Brandy now,” Kirk said. “Tea … later.”

“Very well.” Spock uncorked the flask and poured some into each glass.

Kirk sipped the fiery, amber brew, letting the glass hide his frown as he watched his friend from the corner of his eye. Spock had played chess almost too fast for Kirk, as though accentuating the fact that Sulak could have kept up. Now, where the hell did that thought come from? An uneasy feeling crept into Kirk’s gut. He chased it down and interrogated it. Guilt. He’d herded Spock’s new friend out of the rec room without considering Spock’s wishes in the matter.

He tried to put himself in Spock’s place. What if Spock had done that to him? What if he’d been entertaining a young lady and Spock had interrupted and found a good reason to get her to leave? Would Kirk have been as charitable?

He cleared his throat. “Spock, I guess I owe you an apology. I, uh, wanted Sulak to leave. It didn’t seem to matter to me at the moment that you and he were obviously intending to become better acquainted.” He felt his face heat _. McCoy couldn’t have been wrong about that, could he?_

But Spock only lifted an eyebrow and took a tiny sip of his drink. “On the contrary, Jim, it was a most convenient and well-timed interruption.”

“It was?” Kirk felt as though he’d missed something obvious, but he couldn’t think what it was. “But it looked like you—and he, you—well, at least, McCoy said—” He couldn’t go on. It couldn’t have been what McCoy thought. He took a big sip of brandy, then regretted it a moment later when it burned all the way down his throat. “I shouldn’t have interrupted,” he finished lamely.

“Jim. Please cease acting coy.”

“What do you mean?” Spock wasn’t making sense.

“Sulak and I, and even McCoy, were fully aware of what you were doing in the rec room.”

“And what was that?” Kirk realized his voice sounded almost indignant.

“You were claiming me,” Spock said in his most logical voice. _Claiming me._ A phrase like incense smoke on the air. Kirk could practically smell the musky, hypnotic scent now. He sniffed. He could swear he smelled it now. He remembered that scent. It had been here, in Spock’s quarters, only once: at the time of the pon farr.

Kirk shook his head to clear it. He was tired. That was it. It was late, and maybe he shouldn’t have had the brandy.

Spock stood and swept the tri-D chess game out of the way with the back of his hand, unheeding of the fact that both queens slid off the edge of the desk and clattered onto the deck. He leaned toward Kirk, planting his hands solidly on the desk. “Claiming me as t’hy’la,” he elaborated. “Your only one. And I accept.” The dark eyes were deadly serious.

“You do?” Kirk stood, flustered. “Spock, I think something must have been lost in the translation. I was trying to apologize—”

“No. You were not.”

Kirk could have sworn he heard the distant tinkling of a bell banner right at that moment. That, and maybe a deep stone gong. He stood his ground, but couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping as Spock rounded the desk and came to him. The Vulcan took his hand, gently.

The brown-black eyes searched his. “I see I must demonstrate,” Spock said. The corner of his mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. “You apparently do not understand your own motivation in the incident.”

“No … I … don’t think I do,” Kirk managed, his voice unable to generate more than a whisper.

Spock lifted Kirk’s hand, shaping it into an approximation of the Vulcan salute, which Kirk had never been able to form perfectly. Spock mated his own palm to it, pressing firmly. Warmth spread through Kirk’s hand as though Spock were transmitting it directly through the flesh and into the veins; it seeped into Kirk’s wrist and up his arm as he stood amazed. Then Spock moved his hand. Down the outside of Kirk’s hand, wrist, and arm the long fingers trailed, leaving tingling in their wake. Up to Kirk’s shoulder and neck and jaw, and finally to his temple. The fingers spread themselves on Kirk’s face in a familiar position. Dark eyes looked intently into his, asking permission. Fascinated as a mouse before a snake, Kirk nodded.

Spock came face to face with him, standing very, very close. He pressed his fingers to Kirk’s face. And the universe expanded.

Stars filled Kirk’s sight. Colors he could never remember seeing before. His body felt filled with light. Vaguely, he registered the feeling of Spock taking him in his arms. He felt strong arms surround him, soft warm breaths on his throat. The gentle press of lips there. He heard himself sigh into an exquisitely pointed ear. Again he caught the heady scent of incense on the air.

His cock surged to excruciating hardness, his nipples froze, his ass tightened. He felt Spock’s hands on his ass, cupping the firmness, pulling Kirk to him so that Kirk’s hardness rubbed…

…Spock’s erection. Kirk opened his eyes. The mind-touch had been fleeting; the expansive feelings diminished, but desire remained. _Great god and goddess, he_ is _gay,_ was the first thought he had. _McCoy was right after all._

Spock was looking at him with that expression that meant the Vulcan would be laughing if he had not been conditioned so strongly against it. He lifted a bemused eyebrow. “You did not know? I should have thought it was obvious.”

Kirk tried to breathe, found it very difficult. “Not until this evening in the rec room. You looked as though you were going to take him right there.”

Now Spock really did smile. “I was rather more demonstrative than I would normally care to be in public, but the action served its purpose.” He embraced Kirk more tightly.

Kirk looked at him, stunned. “You staged that? For my benefit?”

“Not entirely.” If Vulcans shrugged, Spock would have been shrugging. “Sulak made a request of me in the usual manner for homosexual Vulcans. I told him that if I were free I might respond in the affirmative. I would have said the same in private, but I had taken care not to be alone with him.”

“You knew about him—instantly, when he came aboard. That he was gay, and unmarried.” Kirk was sure.

“Of course. There are specific cues; they are necessary in an ordered, unemotional environment.”

“So you knew he was going to hit on you. You just made sure it happened when I was there.”

“Entirely as a safeguard for me, Jim. I did not wish to be swayed by his logic if there was the remotest possibility you could want me.”

Kirk gripped Spock by both biceps, hard. “And when I chased him off, you concluded—” He stopped, gasping, as the long fingers moved around and stroked the front of his trousers. _Oh, gods—_ this was Spock stroking him. He couldn’t stand it.The vision he’d had in the rec room surged back. _Spock, totally focused on his lover—_

“Jim, I have always been yours. What I didn’t know was whether you would claim me. You did.”

The scene in the rec room came back to Kirk in stark detail. The open surprise on Sulak’s face, the quiet joy on Spock’s. Spock’s passive reaction when Kirk interposed his body between the Vulcans. The anger Kirk had felt that someone—another man—would presume to have Spock.

“Oh, gods, I think I did. Spock, I’m—are you certain?”

“Can there be any question, after all we have shared?” One of Spock’s hands was still cupping Kirk’s groin. Spock lifted the other to slide it into the vee of Kirk’s wrap-style shirt and stroke the bare chest. “Enough talk, t’hy’la. Come to me. I claim you as you claimed me.”

Suddenly there was nothing more important in the universe than opening the neck fastening of Spock’s robe. Then finding the next catch, and the next. Baring the Vulcan slowly. Spock, likewise, was unfastening Kirk’s green tunic at the waist and unwrapping it. The moment Kirk felt warm air on his bare skin, he groaned and yanked Spock’s robe open the rest of the way, not caring when he heard stitches tear.

He pushed the robe back off Spock’s shoulders just as Spock got his wraparound tunic down and back around his elbows, restraining him. They looked at each other, Kirk with a smile and Spock with a raised eyebrow. “You first,” Kirk said teasingly.

“Very well.” Spock shrugged his shoulders and spread his arms just enough, and the robe slid off him to the floor. He had absolutely nothing on underneath but his short Vulcan boots, which he stepped out of gracefully. Kirk struggled out of his own shirt, but his eyes were taking in Spock, this new perspective of him—ivory skin and dark, curling body hair, shapely muscles etched precisely on the slender form. And the tawny greenish cock, standing out towards Kirk, hard and obvious and large. He put out a hand. “May I—?”

Spock, wearing only that shadow-smile of his, stepped closer.

Kirk’s hand closed around Spock’s shaft—velvet over steel. He stroked it, once. “Gods—that’s for me?”

Spock leaned forward and offered Kirk his lips. “For you,” he whispered against Kirk’s mouth.

Kirk raised his hands to cup the Vulcan’s chin as he accepted the offer, pulling Spock’s head down just enough, planting his lips on Spock’s, tasting the smoky sweetness of brandy there. He pressed forward until Spock’s mouth opened under his and yielded, wet and warm, to the invasion of his captain’s tongue.

They kissed. Kirk pulled Spock closer until the warm hairy chest brushed his own smooth one, and the hard Vulcan erection poked him in the belly. He looked down to see the olive-hued organ leaving a glistening trail on his skin. _Oh, you want this, you want me …._ Kirk’s knees went weak at the sight.

Spock’s impatient hands found Kirk’s waistband and parted the self-stick closure, pushed Kirk’s trousers and briefs down over his hips until they fell down around his ankles. Leaning back slightly against the desk, Kirk pulled his boots off, then stepped out of the rest of the clothing. He slid a hand down to capture the impatient Vulcan hardness, eliciting a sharp in-drawn breath from Spock. Spock pressed forward, thrusting his cock into Kirk’s hand, but then jerking back as though he were trying to restrain himself and could not quite manage it. Kirk made his hand firm to stroke Spock’s erection and then gentle as he slid his fingers lower to caress Spock’s balls.

“Jim!” Spock dropped his head to Kirk’s neck. Kirk felt the edges of Spock’s teeth on his skin. His breathing quickened. How exactly did one claim a Vulcan lover? He couldn’t ask, could only go on instinct. He trailed his lips down to Spock’s chest, found one tawny green nipple and let Spock feel his teeth there, trailed his open mouth over the swell of the pectoral and then the ribs. Felt Spock start slightly as he kissed his way over the flat belly and finally knelt to lay his cheek against one hard thigh.

“Claim you,” Kirk whispered. He raised up enough to kiss the head of Spock’s penis.

Spock, leaning back against the desk, closed his eyes tightly, and the vein in his neck stood out in stark relief.

Kirk took Spock in, gently, mindful of his teeth, and sucked the few inches he could manage to hold. Spock tasted of exotic spice and clean desert air. Kirk circled the head with his tongue, sliding over the smooth, double cuff again and again.

A moan; Kirk looked up to see Spock biting into his lower lip, his hands clutching the desk so hard that the knuckles whitened. Again Spock’s hips moved, a semi-thrust, restrained.

Kirk sucked hard, stroking Spock at the same time and cupping his balls, and Spock bit harder into his lip and emitted another muffled groan.

“Enough.” Kirk stood up, releasing Spock abruptly. “This is too difficult for you. You’re afraid to hurt me, afraid you can’t hold back.” He tugged Spock by the arm toward the sleeping chamber.

“I do not wish to hurt you, Jim.” The words came out a harsh whisper.

“I know. Lie down.”

Spock stretched out obediently on the bed.

 _He wouldn’t have had to worry about hurting Sulak,_ Kirk thought, unexpectedly. _But it isn’t Sulak he wants._

“What do you have around here that might ease matters?” he asked lightly. “Gel, oil of some kind?”

“Oil. Aniyahl,” Spock whispered, gesturing toward the built-in cabinet beside the bunk.

Kirk found it, smoothed it over Spock’s proud flesh. Spock, eyes shut in concentration, thrust harder into Kirk’s slick hand. Kirk applied oil to his own body as well, then lay down next to Spock. He reached a hand to the angular jaw, lifted up enough to whisper into one pointed ear, “Fuck me.”

Spock’s eyes snapped open. “Jim!”

“You heard me right.” Kirk gave him a crooked grin. “I can see it’s what you need, and I’m ready.” He thrust his own hard cock against Spock’s thigh. “Your turn to claim your lover, Vulcan—if you’re man enough.” He said it teasingly. Spock had always loved his teasing.

A long eyebrow raised. “I am not a man, I am a Vulcan,” Spock intoned as he had once before. “And Vulcans can be rather more … enthusiastic than you may realize.” But he grated the words between harsh breaths.

“I can’t wait. Take me, now.”

“Jim….” But it was a half-hearted protest, for Spock got up onto his knees, and Kirk wasted no time in turning onto his belly, bunching the pillow up under him, and spreading his thighs. A long finger probed his entrance, gently, spreading the oil there and adding more, gently circling the rim and then pressing inward. It smarted, as usual, but felt good at the same time, and Kirk opened to it, and willed himself to open even further, remembering the size of that Vulcan cock.

It was snubbed against his anus soon enough, pushing hard until the head was in, stretching him wide. He stifled a groan in the pillow. _More, more…oh gods of space…_ he loved being fucked, and no one here knew, no one here had ever known, probably not even McCoy, despite his joking remarks.

Kirk hadn’t realized it, but Spock was the one he’d been waiting for. He just hadn’t known…

Spock opened him so wide that he wouldn’t even have to move to make Kirk come; the hot Vulcan cock was already nudging Kirk’s prostate deliciously, and Spock’s hairy thighs pressing the backs of Kirk’s almost sent him over the edge. Just another moment…

…and then Spock was moving, sliding into him and back out with deliberate slowness, gradually speeding up his rhythm as Kirk began to move with him. _Gods, that cock!_ He spread his arms wide on the bed to help him push back against Spock, back against the delicious stroking inside and out.

“Jim, Jim,” Spock was whispering as he mated his belly and chest to Kirk’s back and found Kirk’s shoulder with his sharp teeth. One long-fingered hand snaked around Kirk’s belly to clasp his erection and stroke it in time with the massive thrusts.

“Yes,” Kirk whispered between clenched teeth as every muscle in his body went tight. “I do—claim—you!” He went right over the edge, Spock with him, splitting him open with one final thrust and holding still. Hot liquid filled Kirk even as he pulsed warm liquid onto Spock’s hand and his own belly.

He felt Spock’s lips on his shoulder, soothing the marks his teeth had no doubt left, then placing kisses on his back, tracing a path down his spine. Spock eased his cock out of Kirk as he did so, then he placed the last kiss on Kirk’s left buttock. Kirk squirmed as the rough cheek brushed his backside. He pushed the pillow up where it belonged and rolled over, pulling Spock up and into his arms. “You, mister, need a shave,” he muttered.

“Quite true.” Spock pushed a gentle hand into Kirk’s bangs, smoothing them back. “Jim, may I touch you?”

Kirk’s eyes could not have gone wider. “What? What do you call what we were just doing?” He started to laugh.

“I mean _touch._ ” Spock gestured with the fingers of one hand, spread in a familiar configuration.

“Ahh—you mean meld? I’m sorry, should we have…is that part of sex, for a Vulcan?”

Spock smiled. “I don’t think I could have tolerated it a moment ago, but yes, it is part of sex for Vulcans. If you do not want it, however, I will understand.”

“No—no, I could never deprive you of something that important to you. And I _want_ it, Spock. Surely you know? Melding, at least, we’ve done before.”

Spock seemed to search his face. “In the line of duty…” he started to say.

Kirk grasped Spock’s chin in his fingers, shook it playfully. “So you said, at the time.”

“Jim, if you think that I—”

Kirk slapped him once, resoundingly, on the rump.

Spock stopped in mid-sentence, startled, both brows flying up in surprise.

Kirk smiled. He rubbed the lean buttock where he’d smacked it. “Sorry. But let’s be honest. We both enjoyed those times when we melded ‘in the line of duty.’ I told myself the same fiction. Spock—” He slid his hand up over the muscular back. “Didn’t you feel, when you touched me just before, how wonderful that was for me?”

Spock smiled, really smiled. “It was just a very light mind-touch, not a true meld.”

“Then it’s about time we melded,” Kirk concluded. “I want you inside my mind as much as I wanted you inside my body.”

Instead of placing his hands on Kirk’s temples and cheeks as he had done before, Spock cupped Kirk’s face in both long-fingered hands and lowered his mouth for a kiss. The moment their lips met, their minds melted together like cool liquid fire.

Words were not needed. Thoughts were simply present, shared and then released.

_Love…_

It was the feeling, not the word. It was simply there between them, and there was nothing that needed to be said about it.

Kirk felt a thrumming, like the beat of an ancient drum, only the rhythm was very, very fast. At length, he realized it was the rhythm of Spock’s heart, pulsating in Kirk’s ears as though it were in his chest and not Spock’s. For a moment, he looked into his own eyes as though he stood before a mirror.

And then he was back in his own perspective, looking into Spock’s eyes. “That was beautiful,” he managed to say after about a century.

Spock kissed him again, just a soft pressure of lips, a promise, and then released him. “It is all we dare at this time. There are…consequences to true melding that…are most likely inappropriate for a captain and first officer at this time.”

“Such as?”

“The possibility of confusing our identities. We must take care not to remain…joined too long.”

Kirk sighed. “You’re right, of course. This year alone, we’ve had more than a lifetime’s share of identity confusions. Sargon, Janice… We’ll be careful.”

He paused. “And yet, in the future… ”

“There are always possibilities,” Spock said. “As long as we observe caution, we can occasionally indulge in the true meld.”

“And otherwise?”

“The physical form of melding, along with the mind-touch, should more than suffice.”

“Sex, you mean. And that thing you did with our hands.”

“I believe that is what I said.”

Kirk smiled.

*****

Three deliriously happy days later, Kirk found himself again in the rec room with Dr. McCoy. Kirk was drinking coffee; McCoy was eating an obnoxiously large hot-fudge sundae. Not offering him any, as usual, but Kirk hardly noticed.

He was watching Uhura play an Antarean guitar and sing something in a language he didn’t recognize. It was beautiful anyway, and he was absolutely certain it was a love song. He smiled to himself, thinking that he’d ask Uhura to play this for Spock sometime.

He wondered if she’d be surprised.

“Pretty song,” McCoy said. He paused with a spoonful of ice cream halfway to his mouth. “Hey—look who’s here.”

Kirk followed McCoy’s glance to see Ensign Sulak pulling up a chair near the impromptu performance.

“Another Vulcan music lover, just like our Mr. Spock,” McCoy remarked, finally putting the ice cream in his mouth. “Mmm. Too bad Vulcans don’t like ice cream. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Kirk chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Bones. First of all, our Mr. Spock _does_ like ice cream; he’s just never apprised _you_ of that fact. And further, being Vulcan has its pleasures.”

McCoy’s spoon clattered suddenly into his almost-empty dish. “Oh, does it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, well. I take it your conversation with Spock the other night was most revealing. Make any other discoveries you’d like to share with your kindly family doctor?”

“Oh, I made many, but I have only one to share with you at the moment.”

“And that is?”

“It’s even more interesting than your comments about Sulak the other day.”

“Out with it, Jim!”

Kirk shrugged and spoke his truth. He had to grab McCoy’s arm immediately after he said it, because the doctor started to fall out of his chair, but the look on McCoy’s face absolutely made his day:

“I’m gay, Bones.”


End file.
